


This Time With Feeling

by popfly



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24021151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: Loving David Rose gives Patrick something like superpowers.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 34
Kudos: 162
Collections: David & Patrick Schmoop’s Creek





	This Time With Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DelphinaBoswell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelphinaBoswell/gifts).



> Thanks to [Neely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeelyO/pseuds/NeelyO) for letting us glom onto her great idea, and for the encouragement.  
> Thanks to [TINN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_not_nothing/pseuds/this_is_not_nothing) for the title, and for the encouragement.  
> Thanks to [Gray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrayness/pseuds/thegrayness) for the beta, and for the encouragement.

When Patrick was younger he collected Spider-Man comics. Or casually collected, really, as he amended to David when he first made that confession, early on in their relationship. He wasn’t a die-hard, at-the-comics-shop-every-week, keep-issues-in-plastic collector. He just really liked the character—and the stories. Spider-Man’s origin story, in particular, was fascinating to adolescent Patrick. Not only gaining powers from the bite of a radioactive spider, but having enhanced senses because of it.

For a kid who always felt slightly dulled by the world around him, who never felt things the way he thought he was supposed to feel them, enhanced senses really did seem like a superpower.

Then Patrick grew up, moved away from his childhood home, his childhood room with the single bed that had shoeboxes of wrinkled Spider-Man comics under it, and met David Rose.

It was like a radioactive spider bite, shaking David’s hand that first time. The world came sharply into focus. Patrick felt like he was surfacing after years spent underwater. Even the bland colors of Ray’s workspace seemed brighter. The tuna melt Patrick ordered from the cafe later that day tasted better than it had before. As he laid in bed that night, phone on his chest, replaying David’s voicemails, he thought about Spider-Man. He imagined the squiggly lines that always indicated Spider-Man’s spider-sense had been activated. 

His dreams are full of his conversation with David, of David’s mouth shaping words like “oscillate” and “branded immersive experience” while squiggly lines danced over Patrick’s head.

Patrick starts referring to the sensation as his David-sense, the way he notices things and feels things more acutely now that he’s become a part of David’s life. It expands as his role expands, from business consultant to business partner to life partner, there are a million ways that Patrick’s experience of life and the world around him has become richer thanks to David.

His David-sense kicks in as soon as he opens the door to Rose Apothecary. The scent of patchouli from the lit candle on the counter is heady but soothing, and the greens in the bin at the front of the store look particularly bright and crisp. David’s smile, when he looks up from the shelf he’s re-stocking and sees what Patrick is carrying, spreads across his face unchecked. It’s a smile he doesn’t let a lot of people see, but he lets Patrick see it often. It makes Patrick’s chest feel as warm as the cup in his hand.

“I brought you a coffee,” Patrick says, unnecessarily, because he always brings David a coffee on the mornings David opens the store. David puts the last jar on the shelf and then crosses over to where Patrick is standing, still smiling. He’s wearing a new sweater, mottled black and white with black around the collar and hem and cuffs of the sleeves. It makes his shoulders look broad, extra inviting, and skims his hips as he walks. Patrick can’t wait to touch it.

As soon as he passes off David’s coffee he does touch it, skimming over David’s waist with his palms, feeling the coarseness of what he thinks is wool blended with the softness of cashmere. His fingertips pick out the different textures as he slides them up David’s shoulders, pulling their bodies closer together. He loves holding David like this, when David is fully clothed in one of his oversized sweaters and Patrick has his shirtsleeves rolled up. Sometimes David’s sweaters make the insides of Patrick’s bare forearms itch, sometimes they’re so soft Patrick rubs his hands up and down David’s back so he can feel the smoothness with the sensitive skin of his wrists. Sometimes he can get hard just from the way David feels through his sweater, the firmness of him, the give over his hips, kept away from Patrick’s hands by thick knit.

“Hm,” David hums, because now is apparently one of those times, and the way David is biting at his smirk means he can feel it through their many layers. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Patrick says, voice husky. He watches David take a prim sip of his coffee, testing the temperature the way he always does, before taking a longer drink. His eyes flutter shut, like they always do, savouring the sugary syrup that he loves so much. Patrick pulls him as close he can without crushing the cardboard cup between them, spreading his fingers wide across David’s back. “I like this sweater.”

“Is that what’s happening here?” David bites his lip as he gives his hips a little shimmy. “Because I might have to change. This is very inappropriate behaviour for a place of business.”

As if Patrick hasn’t had to talk David out of all sorts of inappropriateness at work. Patrick laughs. “Don’t change. I’ll get myself under control. It’s just—” Patrick rubs his hands up and down David’s back again. “It is a really nice sweater.”

“Thank you.” David ducks around his coffee cup so he can give Patrick a peck on the lips. “For the compliment and the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Patrick lets go so David can drink more of his coffee, and so Patrick can get to work.

It’s a busy day, so Patrick doesn’t get to feel David up anymore. But they have plans for dinner after closing, and Patrick is absolutely going to suggest ordering pizza at his place because he wants to be able to peel David out of that sweater. As much as he loves holding David when he’s fully clothed, learning all the textures of the fabrics he chooses to wear, he loves the different textures of naked David even more.

With his new, David-improved senses, getting to explore someone’s body in that way is now something Patrick looks forward to—craves.

As he makes his suggestion to David, he tucks his hand up under David’s sweater. The small of his back is a little sweaty, and Patrick’s fingertips skid over the damp skin in a way that makes him think of sex. His blood thrums in his veins, a rush in his ears that almost drowns out David’s voice as he agrees to Patrick’s plan. Patrick rubs his thumb over David’s spine, watches David lick his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth. Then he pulls David close, wrapping one arm around his waist under his sweater, and one around his shoulders over it.

“I can’t close up if you don’t let me go. So if you want to go home and order pizza—” He trails off as Patrick squeezes him harder, tightening his own hold. David tucks his face into Patrick’s neck, and Patrick feels the scrape of his stubble, the brush of his hair, the stretch of his smile as it presses into Patrick’s shoulder.

He imagines the squiggly lines over his head as all of his senses are flooded with David and grins. “Alright, let’s close up.”

~~~~~

Patrick puts in their pizza order as soon as they get back to his apartment, and when his phone dings with the confirmation email he sets it on the coffee table and grabs for David. The smirk that curls David’s mouth is knowing, and he lets himself be gathered into Patrick’s arms. Patrick drops a kiss to his favorite spot on David’s neck, inhaling deeply. This late in the day the scent of his moisturizer has faded, but his cologne is still sharp in the hollow behind his ear, and his hair smells just as good when Patrick buries his nose in it.

“Are you smelling me?” David asks, amusement clear in his tone. He walks his fingers up Patrick’s spine to the collar of Patrick’s shirt, and rubs gently at the nape of Patrick’s neck. 

Patrick hums admission against David’s skin, and then opens his mouth in a facsimile of a kiss. The tip of his tongue skates over the tendon in David’s neck, which tightens under Patrick’s mouth as David tilts his head.

“Okay, smell all you want, just don’t stop that.”

That’s an easy order to obey, because now that Patrick has the taste of David in his mouth he doesn’t want to do anything else. He covers David’s neck and throat in wet, open kisses, nibbling under David’s jaw, dragging his chin down to the collar of David’s sweater. It’s softer there where it’s solid black than where Patrick is touching with his hands, and he nuzzles his cheek against it.

“You really like this sweater, don’t you?”

Patrick pulls back, takes in the flush on David’s face, the wet shine of his mouth, and slips a hand under the sweater to touch David’s stomach, where his muscles are faintly trembling. “I do. But I want to take it off you, can I do that?”

David nods, but then stops and bites the corner of his mouth. 

“The pizza won’t be here for at least another half an hour,” Patrick says, and David rolls his eyes but the twist of his lips gives him away. 

“Go ahead,” he says, and Patrick carefully lifts the hem of the sweater up, letting David help him ease it off over his head. Patrick lays it out over the back of the couch and then splays his hand over David’s stomach again, the hair around his navel crisp under Patrick’s palm. He pushes until David starts backing up towards the bed.

They undress slowly, helping each other here and there with buttons and socks, and then lay down. Patrick gets his arms back around David so he can align their bodies, knees and hips and chests. He rubs his shin against David’s hairier one, toes curling, shifting on the mattress until his cock is riding the crease of David’s thigh. The apartment is cool the way David likes it, but the air around them is getting humid and warm, and they’re starting to sweat. It adds to the friction between them, and the salt tang of it blooms over Patrick’s tongue as he licks across David’s collarbone.

It makes Patrick groan, the taste and the smell, the feel of David’s chest hair damp and curling as Patrick licks down to David’s nipple. David echoes the noise as Patrick flicks with the tip of his tongue, nips with his teeth. Patrick looks up, watches David’s head toss on the pillow, and as all five of Patrick’s senses are completely overwhelmed with _David_ he’s suddenly close to coming.

“Fuck,” he says, muffled by David’s abs, before hauling himself up for a kiss. David opens right up for it, tongue slick and working against Patrick’s, hands scrabbling at Patrick’s sweaty back. Patrick reaches down to touch the wet head of David’s cock, rubbing it awkwardly as they both roll their hips together, then changing the angle so he can get a grip on it. He strokes a couple of times, then opens his fingers up to hold them both.

“God, Patrick,” David says, panting into Patrick’s mouth. Patrick nods, forehead slipping on David’s, and bumps a kiss against his chin.

“You gonna come?”

David whimpers, pulling his lips into his mouth, eyelashes fluttering. Then he opens his eyes, looks right into Patrick’s, and exhales shakily. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, and keeps his gaze locked on David as he does.

The pleasure is a wave, crashing through him, stealing his breath. David’s eyes go wide, and his whole body quakes under Patrick’s. Patrick strokes them through it, backs of his fingers spreading come between their stomachs, and right when David is about to push him off, sensitive, he leans down for a kiss.

“Fuck,” David says around a shocked laugh and Patrick’s tongue, shoulders shaking against the bed. Patrick kisses the tip of his nose and lets them go, sliding off to the side.

Then he takes stock, sense by sense. David is practically melting into the mattress, hair messy and lips bruised. He has a faint red mark behind his ear. He’s breathing deep, humming in contentment every few seconds, blinking at Patrick through a postcoital haze. They both smell like sweat, and when Patrick tips forward to kiss David’s shoulder, he tastes like it too. Patrick scrubs his fingertips through the neatly trimmed hair around David’s softening cock, the trail leading up to his navel that’s messy with come. 

And he smiles. 

“We should get cleaned up before the pizza gets here,” he says, and David instantly gets more alert. He’s just starting to sit up when the buzzer sounds and his eyes get comically wide. Patrick laughs, his heart swelling with love. “Go. I’ll get it.”

David goes.

**Author's Note:**

> [DelphinaBoswell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelphinaBoswell/pseuds/DelphinaBoswell), you're the best. I hope you enjoy your gifts as much as we enjoy your presence in the fandom, and your friendship.


End file.
